


The Body Remembers Where The Mind Doesn’t

by JadeFlicker



Series: One Piece 20 Years At Sea [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: #20yearsatsea, 5+1 Things, ASL Brothers, Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Day 2: Scars, Gen, Slice of Life, TRY being the key word, Try at medical stuff, mostly - Freeform, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeFlicker/pseuds/JadeFlicker
Summary: Flashes of Sabo's life with the Revolutionary Army.(Or, the five times Sabo didn't remember how he got a scar and the one scar that made him remember all the rest.)





	The Body Remembers Where The Mind Doesn’t

**Author's Note:**

> Second contribution to the One Piece 20 Years At Sea anniversary event. I decided to focus on Sabo's scars. The medical jargon involved me researching, reading, trying to understand, and failing. So any thing here is me TRYING.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 “Sabo-kun, what happened here?”

 

The blonde child snapped out of his bored daydreaming to see what the doctor was talking about. Obligingly, the weathered, old man (they all looked old to him) angled two mirrors around so that Sabo could see the scars on his back, just below his left shoulder. They were three parallel lines of varying length, sloping jaggedly down across his upper back.

 

“Huh…,” he trailed off, reaching over his shoulder to touch the wide-set old wounds. “I didn’t know I had these...”

 

It had been three months since he had arrived at Baltigo with the leader of the Revolutionaries. Three months since he had started training and schooling alongside other kids his age in order to become a Revolutionary. And he _excelled_. Everything was new and exciting, and the teachers and adults never told him to stop asking questions or dictate that what he was reading was irrelevant or stupid (and this was important, though he wasn’t quite sure why). There was just so _much_ , and the adults were always accommodating when it came to books and maps. Even the rare ones kept in private collections, so long as Sabo promised to treat them gently.

 

Training was a bit too light though. Too easy and lacking any challenge. Sparring with the others in his class was the worst. He’d kick a classmate across the ring and had been pleased with his victory, but it confused him when they didn’t get back up. Had he really kicked that hard? But moments like that shocked the teachers and trainers more effectively than any prank, and _that_ made Sabo chuckle. Besides, he was perfectly fine training himself until he could get Hack or one of the more challenging Revolutionaries to spar with him. Honestly, he couldn’t remember ever being so _happy_.

 

(But then again, he couldn’t remember much of anything before he got here.)

 

The Revolutionary doctor grunted, “I would say they were a few years old. More importantly, I don’t like how they run over your spine. Can you tell me how you got them? And if you’ve been having any trouble moving at any point? Any numbness?”

 

_Bear claws._

 

Sabo started. Where did _that_ come from?

 

“An animal maybe?” Sabo hedged instead, brows furrowing as he picked at the edge of the top-most line. “And I dunno? I don’t feel any different.”

 

“Not that you would remember, correct?” the doctor sighed despondently, pressing fingers methodically up along his spine before starting to poke at different parts of Sabo’s body. “Boy, this is why you should have come to your damn check-ups.”

 

Sabo simply laughed sheepishly. Technically, students were suppose to have routine check-ups every month. Or in Sabo’s case, every week to monitor the healing wounds that covered him from head-to-toe and his right eye. But it was so stifling and, frankly, he could take care of himself just fine. He just wasn’t used to all the adult supervision. It had taken three months of grief on the teachers’ and trainers’ parts, a direct order from Dragon, and Kuma physically picking up the young boy and dropping him off in one of the care rooms to FINALLY get Sabo to sit still for a check-up. Next time, he would remember that Kuma was a lot quieter and better at sneaking than his size would imply.

 

“Sabo-kun, do you feeling this?” the doctor inquired as he pinched at on the bottom of Sabo’s foot while keeping a measuring hand on the calf of the other leg.

 

He shrugged, “Yeah, kinda? I can feel you pinching there. Is that suppose to do something?”

 

“Most people would jump, maybe jerk their foot away from something they perceive as a sharp. Then their other leg would reflexively stretch and tighten in order to maintain balance. Sabo, you’re not making any of the normal involuntary reflexive movements of someone with regular sensory fibers or receptors,” the Revolutionary doctor moved away, humming thoughtfully as he took some notes. “The good thing is that there doesn’t seem to be any kind of paralysis. On the other hand, you don’t seem to be feeling pain or sensitivity in quite the same way. Actually, this might explain a few things.”

 

“What’d you mean, doc?” Sabo inquired curiously. Taking the other’s note-taking as a sign that they were finished, he grabbed his shirt and jacket to put back on.

 

“From what I’ve seen from your spars with the trainers, you’re used to and unafraid of taking hits,” the older man replied absentmindedly, looking over his notes before scribbling some more. “Additionally, you have a very honed fighting instinct and you’re used to taking on people or things bigger than yourself. But truly, the way you bounce back from heavier hits like it’s nothing isn’t something most children are capable of doing. There are records of special cases or family lines that boast unnatural strength and endurance, but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’re from such a bloodline. The marks on your back are one of the oldest. I would hypothesize that you had a run-in with a large and dangerous animal and ended up taking a glancing blow. Fortunate for you, had it been any deeper you might not have survived. It’s hard to say, seeing as you don’t recall anything from before, but I think it did result in some nerve damage and possibly some numbness. That, together with endurance and stamina built up through later fights, could be what lets you take so much punishment.”

 

“So you’re saying it’s a _good_ thing, right?” he grinned, causing the man to scoff exasperatedly.

 

“I’d like to keep my eye on it,” the doctor corrected. “Spine injuries are tricky. And though it seems fine for now, I want to do a scan later and watch for complications later on. But otherwise, your burns are healing well, and I think you should be able to see through that eye of yours.” Finally looking away from his notes, the older man gave Sabo a sardonic smirk with a raised eyebrow. “You may very well have the Devil’s luck, kid.” Sighing, he started putting his equipment away, absentmindedly tossing Sabo the cookie he had promised in exchange for sitting still. “That aside, you have a truly remarkable amount of scarring from animals, Sabo-kun. What the hell were you doing before? Going out into a jungle everyday to fight animals?”

 

The image made Sabo laugh brightly even as he deftly caught the treat. It really sounded like a lot of fun. Lots of challenges, a wild playground, and plenty of food to hunt.

 

But as Sabo left the care room, licking his fingers for the last of the sugar, he became thoughtful. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much of where he came from, what he did, or what he had forgotten. It wasn’t often that he cared, too focused on everything going on with his new home. He just knew with a knowledge that was bone-deep and a fearful ache that managed to transcend amnesia that he couldn’t go back no matter what.

 

But in moments like these, he couldn’t help but wonder. Just a little.

 

Sabo didn’t think too hard on how sometimes when he had skipped out on training to explore a new part of Baltigo, when he found something new or exciting, he would look back excitedly with a cheer or a chattering observation only to be left wondering who he had been about to talk to.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where did you get that?”

 

Sabo looked up from the book he was studying, the new plant he’d found in one hand for comparison. Koala was frowning at him worriedly. Which, to be fair, wasn’t unusual though he wasn’t sure what he had done this time to warrant it.

 

“I got this when we went on that training trip to—“

 

“I didn’t mean your twig, stupid!” Koala scowled at him.

 

Grabbing his empty hand, she tugged it closer to herself in order examine his bare forearm. In the process of running around the library and shuffling around dusty reference books, Sabo had eventually ended up taking off his hat and jacket and then rolled up his shirtsleeves to really get to work. Now, the subconscious habit had clearly backfired on him because Koala was now worrying over a long, dark scar that slashed up his forearm from wrist to a little above his elbow.

 

“ _Where_ did you even get this?” Koala scolded. “ _When_ did you hurt yourself _again?!_ Sabo-kun, they only just took off the bandages over your eye.”

 

“I don’t know,” Sabo shrugged, tugging his arm away to close the encyclopedia he no longer felt like using. Hoisting up the large book, he hopped down from the chair. “I’ve always had it.”

 

The young girl scoffed, but followed Sabo through the shelves without any further questions. At this point, they both knew that “always” meant “since he could remember.”

 

“I bet it’s because you did something stupid,” Koala announced, still scowling at Sabo like some forgotten injury was all his fault.

 

Well, _she_ certainly seem to think it was.

 

Scowling, the blonde boy muttered moodily to himself as he placed the encyclopedia back in its place, “At least I know it’s not because I messed up one of the Fishman katas so badly that I hit myself in the face.”

 

Too late, he realized that he might have said that too loudly. Which is to say that he said it out loud at all. The silence that followed was ominous enough to send chills up his spine, and Sabo shook a little as he looked over his shoulder fearfully. What he saw was enough for the rest of the blood to drain from his face in horror at the evil aura Koala was practically breathing out.

 

“ _Sa. Bo. Kuuuunn_.”

 

It was at that moment, he knew…that he’d fucked up.

 

Everyone at base ignored the intense, angry scolding and high-pitched, panicked wailing that echoed from the library.

 

* * *

 

 

Laying there on the table for literal hours as the special medical snails did their scans was a strange kind of tiresome. At first, Sabo couldn’t help but squirm restlessly, but eventually, even that got weirdly exhausting and 'too much trouble' after awhile. They were suppose to be done hours ago, but apparently Doc had seen something in the initial scans that were of great concern.

 

“So what’s the verdict, Doc?” the boy jested lazily, but still managed to inject a truly concentrated dose of melodrama. “Am I going to live?”

 

The fact that the doctor didn’t immediately snark back at the joke spoke volumes, and Sabo raised his head to look at the other worriedly. Not even mumbling to himself, the older man was shuffling through the prints, studying each of them closely with a magnifying glass.

 

“Yes, you’re going to live,” the doctor finally huffed. “But I honestly don’t see _how_. Good Sea Lords _balls_ , Sabo! I know you haven’t been taking any hits to the head lately, so where the _hell_ did all these cranial microfractures come from?!”

 

Sabo furrowed his brows in confusion, “Well, I was in an explosion a few months ago? The one that caused my amnesia? How would I _not_ have cracked my skull a bit?”

 

“But those are the head injury from that caused the fracture and fissuring _here_ ,” the man insisted, turning around a scan and jabbed at a point to the side of Sabo’s forehead over where his scar stretched. “ _These_ ,” he jabbed at three other points located more on the top and back of his skull, “Are _older_. They’re healed but there are signs of antemortem fractures. It would seem that the collagenous fibre bunches and layers in the bone matrix has been broken.”

 

“Aaaaanndd you lost me, doc,” Sabo confessed, siting up and hopping off the table. “Should I start studying up on that?”

 

The doctor simply sighed and mentally added ‘explaining the injury in more depth to Dragon' onto his to-do list. Since picking up the young boy, their leader had made it a point to keep tabs on him and there was no doubt that he would want to know about these past injuries and what they implied. At this point, everyone knew that the Revolutionary leader considered Sabo an individual of great interest and potential. Looking at his unprecedented progress, only a fool wouldn’t think that the boy would advance far in their ranks. Pushing himself out of his chair, he grabbed half a dozen heavy books off the shelf that he knew addressed fractures or head injuries in more of a medical standpoint than the ones found in the library. Dumping the books in a grinning Sabo’s eager grasp, he waved the boy off and prepared to start a more extensive report to stick in said boy’s medical file.

 

“Have at it.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was Hack who really noticed.

 

It wasn’t unusual for how _little_ Sabo needed first aid in comparison to the other trainees. From the start, the boy tended to take care of any scratches, scrapes, and broken fingers himself. As it was, when sparring with the other students he didn’t tend to get hit, period. Only when he went at it with older members or Kuma did he need to get looked at afterwards, and then it was when he needed full-on medical attention because the boy did not know when to stay down or give up.

 

But Hack watched over, trained, and took care of all the younger trainees. Sabo included, though the boy kept dodging and escaping the fishman. Other than Koala, he probably spent the most time with Sabo through sheer proximity and because _someone_ needed to go after the troublemaker. And after a particularly grueling day of training, the fishman found himself help some of the trainee children apply cream to the sores and callouses on their hands and feet. Spotting over Sabo standing off to the side, he called him over.

 

“Sabo! Come here!” he barked. “You need to get your hands looked at!”

 

“I’m fine, Hack!” Sabo waved off, trying out a new sliding kick he had seen one of the older trainees do. Missing a specific step that would help him keep his balance while sliding, he ended up dragging a heavy hand across the rough rock _again_ to steady himself.

 

“Sabo!” Hack scolded. Not only had Sabo been doing the kick a couple of times now, but they had been doing open-palm strikes and intense weapons handling for the past two days. It was the reason why he had specifically gone out of his way to get the antibiotic moisturizing cream for all his students to help with the scarring and callouses. He didn’t want Sabo to just go off and lick his wounds better like he usually did. “For once, just do what I ask and let me look over your hands!”

 

“Fine, fine,” Sabo huffed, bouncing over. “Don’t get your underwear in a twist, Hack.”

 

With grumbling on both their parts, Sabo held out his hands for Hack to examine. Kneeling down and reaching to examine the boy’s hand, Hack blinked in confusion before his eyes widened in shock as he made a half-choked sound. Looking more closely, there were no real serious scrapes or scratches or sores on the younger’s hands. In fact, there was already heavy callouses and some scarring on Sabo’s hands, ones that the other trainees had yet to develop. If one was to compare, those tiny hands looked more similar to one of veteran’s.

 

“…I think you would do well with a staff of some sort,” Hack finally admitted in his own grudging, roundabout way. He huffed in annoyance as he made a point to ignore Sabo’s infuriatingly bright and smug little smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

“What a terrible wound…!”

 

The Revolutionary Army’s Chief of Staff blinked in confusion, quickly looking around before turning back to look at the young waitress. Befuddled, he pointed a questioning finger to himself.

 

“Yes…,” she confirmed, trailing off in confusion. He finally managed to drag his attention away from his food to notice her eyes briefly flickering to the side of his face. Aaaahh, she meant that.

 

He took the time to swallow his current cheeksful of food and didn’t immediately shove more in his mouth with a bit of reluctance. The way he ate liking a storing moosebear disgusted Koala and some of the others, but to this day he couldn’t break himself of the habit. Though why it made him so squeamish, he had no idea, at least _he_ had the manners to not _always_ talk with his mouth full.

 

“This old thing? It looks worse than it actually is,” he chuckled reassuringly, giving her an inviting, companionable look of friends sharing in one of their embarrassments. As he was on a mission, better to be friendly with the wait staff. They were usually the best at picking up useful information and you never knew what information they could have. “Just a really bad accident and a flesh wound really. I can still see with my eye.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she blushed cutely, seemingly a little embarrassed. “I just kinda…blurted that out, didn’t I? It’s just… does it hurt?”

 

“Nah,” he grinned, shuffling some of the remaining pasta into the stew that she had just delivered. “Just itches somedays, but otherwise I hardly notice it.”

 

She shifted her weight, fidgeting as she seemed to struggle between being polite and her curiosity, “Did it hurt when you got it?”

 

It wasn’t an unusual question. When he had been younger, some of the other trainee children asked the same, curious about his stretching scars. However, it also never failed to make Sabo uncomfortable. When people asked, his mind couldn’t help but instantly going back, trying to remember while simultaneously violently recoiling at even trying. Whatever had happened, some part of him didn’t _want_ to remember.

 

“You know,” Sabo smiled thinly. “I don’t actually know.”

 

* * *

 

 

_He remembered now._

 

Not everything mind, but enough of the important things.

 

Sabo now remembered that the parallel scars that ran along his upper back was indeed from a bear attack, back when he had first started venturing away from home. Vaguely, he remembered what pain felt like before the attack, back when he was just another citizen from High Town, but it was in a distant sort of way. A cut from a knife compared little to the pain of realizing how little his parents cared about him. It was that pain that led him to impulsively enter the jungles along the edges of the Gray Terminal after reading an adventure series about a group of orphan boys who banded together to survive the wilds. This was before he had met Ace, who had taught him the dangers of the woods and how to survive them. So in hindsight, it was little surprise when he was accosted by a huge bear.

 

The pain had been horrifying and he had spent most of the time while he was recovering in a strung out daze, struggling, or crying.

 

But he had managed to drag himself back into Goa, and his parents had immediately sent for the best doctors, surgeons, and physical therapists to care for him. Afterwards, he had made up an excuse about having been ambushed by some of the Royal Guard dogs that had recently escaped. Of course, upon hearing that it was the _royal family’s_ guard dogs, they immediately dropped the line of questioning and returned to lecturing him about his duties.

 

The one running up along his forearm was when he cut himself on an alligator’s tooth was from the first time he and Ace had to save Luffy from the stomach of an alligator. In his panic at the thought of Luffy being melted by digestive juices, he was a little clumsy when lunging into the dead crocodile’s mouth to fish the kid out. He may not have thought so at the time, but looking at the scar now, it was something to laugh at on a rainy day. Even after all these years, his younger brother was still a funny guy.

 

Those signs of old microfractures in his skull prior to the explosion? Garp and his damn Fists of Love. One of the few things that left Sabo _wishing_ he didn’t remember absolutely _everything_. There was no value in remembering that particular monster’s so-called “training”.

 

He remembered the explosion too. It had been so sudden and so _hot,_ like the angry sun itself was insistently focused on burning his flesh in the form of millions of unrelenting little bugs eating away at every nerve. And it had been so unfair and random. The desperation and pain and helplessness at his situation—how close yet so far he had been to being _free_ —had made everything _so much worse_.

 

Sabo remembered his last few thoughts. His brothers. How he just couldn’t stay. How his last memories of his two brothers were of them crying out for him, trying to stop his father from taking him away.

 

Now he had one more scar. Unlike the others, this one was still tender, still throbbing, and maybe even still bleeding. It wasn’t something that anyone could see, but it was the one that went the deepest. Because he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember and he didn’t help and now Ace was gone. And he never got to see Ace as a grown man, as a pirate, as someone truly happy and free. When he talked to Robin, she recalled how those of Luffy’s crew who had met the older D had described Ace as cool, mature, polite, almost always smiling or smirking, and a good and kind older brother.

 

It…was a stretch to fit this image of Ace with the Ace _he_ remembered.

 

Sabo watched as his younger brother—their younger brother—rocketed himself from the bow of the Thousand Sunny and catapulted into his dozing first mate, chattering excitedly about the new island spotted even as the green-haired man snarled expletives and threats at his own captain. In a way, Sabo was so relieved that Luffy had stayed the same for the most parts. After hearing the way people described Ace, Sabo had quietly panicked (or rather, frantically flailed like a maniac, much to Koala’s annoyance) about meeting Luffy and not recognizing the person his younger brother had become.

 

But it was Luffy alright. The same Luffy, but…streamlined and concentrated a bit more. More confident, even more hyperactive, more headstrong, better at rolling with the punches, and just so much more powerful. It was Luffy, just…a Luffy that didn’t need his older brothers to watch over him every second of every day anymore in case he accidentally fell into the river or stumbled onto a crocodile. Now he was a man, one that Sabo could fully believe in becoming the Pirate King. One that Ace had raised.

 

Ace’s loss was by far the greatest wound Sabo had ever suffered, one he didn’t think he could ever truly recover from. But from that wound, Ace had given him back his memories. There was guilt (oh, _so much_ guilt), regret (and that would be keeping him up at night for a while still), but there was also a selfish elation in knowing that Sabo had been loved. He hadn’t been alone, even back then, and their memories were jewels he would hoard and protect. From that scar, Sabo had been reminded about their promise and of their younger brother. Even with his last breath and without meaning to, Ace had ensured that someone would watch over Luffy as he had. So though they walked separate paths and had separate goals, Sabo had been given back that brotherly bond. And while he wasn’t going to handhold Luffy to his goal (Luffy wouldn’t let him anyways, what was the point if he didn’t do it himself?)…

 

Sabo the Revolutionary would protect this brother and this remaining bond.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://jflicker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
